


Trust

by sunflowerjohnny



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gendry is a Baratheon, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Post Season 7, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 11:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerjohnny/pseuds/sunflowerjohnny
Summary: To say that Sansa was surprised when she saw the blacksmith Gendry standing behind the door with a look of slight discomfort was an understatement.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I read a one shot where Gendry had given Sansa a dagger and I liked the idea so I thought I should write something about it.
> 
> Idk I think Gendry would try to gain Sansa's trust. I don't think he'd be all grumpy about it or try to show his worth or whatever but he would do it respectfully. After all, this is his lady's sister.

The sound of swords clanking against each other sounded oddly melodic to Sansa’s ears as she sat near her window and watched Arya and Brienne spar in the cold morning, snow falling around them.

Perhaps the sounds reminded her of the days of her youth when Jon and Robb would practice their swordsmanship and little Bran would walk up to them and ask them for a challenge to show just how much of a man grown he was. Arya would take him on that challenge and would always win against Bran, who would often yell that he wasn’t ready.

Sansa didn’t get to watch her siblings practice much due to all of those lady lessons she had with Septa Mordane but, when she finished early, she would walk along the hallway and stand next to her father and watch her siblings along with him. She would hear him chuckling whenever Bran lost against Arya. Sansa smiled faintly at the memory. She missed her father and his wisdom. Missed how Ned would turn to face her and smile at her softly, she felt her heart swell at the memory.

Sansa also remembered that when her father would walk down the stairs and teach Bran how to defend himself properly, she would make her way to the kitchen and spot her mother instructing the cooks on baking her infamous lemon cakes. She would steal a small piece or two of lemon cakes and when Catelyn would lightly glare at her for stealing a piece, little Sansa would hug her and make her mother smile. She could almost smell the honey and sugar that clung to her mother’s dress. She cleared her throat as she felt it go dry and her eyes stinging with tears.

A sharp knocking on her bedroom door made her quickly wipe her face free from tears, stand up and smoothed out any wrinkles in her dress and walk towards the door and open it.

To say that Sansa was surprised when she saw the blacksmith Gendry standing behind the door with a look of slight discomfort was an understatement.

“Ser Gendry, how can I help you?” Sansa spoke elegantly.

The blacksmith’s neck turned a light shade of red, still not used to the high born title.

“May I come in, my lady?” He asked politely, eyes glancing at her once before looking away.

Sansa stepped aside for Gendry to enter before closing the bedroom door.

When she turned to face the blacksmith, she felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of the sharp dagger in his hand.

“What is that?” Her voice wasn’t shaking. Years of living with the Lannisters and being the wife of Ramsey Bolton made her immune to fear. But she couldn’t deny that she would sometimes get spooked a little bit.

“A gift.” Gendry spoke calmly, “For you.” His eyes never left Sansa’s as he reached out his hand towards her and waited for her to take the dagger from his hand.

Her eyes trailed from the bright blue one to the dagger and slowly reached her hand out and took the dagger from his rough hands into her soft ones. Looking down, she noticed how bright the metal looked. The words _Sansa Stark_ was engraved in small writing along the side of the blade. The crossgaurds were white in color while the handle was painted grey. In the middle of the smooth surface of the handle lay the Direwolf sigil. Sansa ran her hand through the sharp looking blade carefully.

“That’s valyrian steel.”

Sansa looked up from the dagger and looked into Gendry’s bright blue eyes, trying to read him.

“While I do appreciate your gift, Ser Gendry,” She spoke up as she placed the dagger on the table next to them, “I fear I must ask why you gift me with a dagger.”

Sansa barely saw it but a flash of anger appeared in Gendry’s eyes and his jaws clenched just like how Jon did when she told him the story of how Petyr Baelish had practically sold her off to the Boltons and all the horrible things she suffered at the hand of Ramsey.

“For protection, my lady.” He answered firmly, his exposed and muscled arms tensing.

Sansa could feel her breath hitch. No doubt Arya had told Gendry what happened to her. Perhaps not in full detail but enough for him to know that Sansa had suffered and endured things that she knows most of the ladies from her childhood songs would probably jump out the window from their high and tall castle just to end their suffering. She picked up the dagger again and brought it closely to hear chest.

“Arry-“ Gendry cut himself off, “M’lady Arya told me that you like to make your own dresses.”

Sansa noticed the way how Gendry pronounced ‘my lady’ differently. The few times she spoke with the blacksmith, he would pronounce it the proper way. The high born way. But with Arya, when speaking to her or about her, he would always pronounce it the commoner’s way. Sansa did not comment on it.

Sansa nodded, “Yes, they help keep me focused.” She answered.

“The dagger is light enough for you to conceal it in the sleeve of your dress. You won’t feel it when you move your arm around and it won’t weigh you down.” Gendry stated.

Sansa looked down the dagger and already was thinking of ways to make several pockets in her dresses and be able to hide the weapon wherever she liked.

“Thank you…Gendry.”

The blacksmith smiled lightly at his lady, muscles no longer tense.

“I must leave you.” Gendry spoke up as he bowed politely to Sansa, “I have many more weapons to be making for the war."

“Yes, of course.” She returned the bow with a slight curtsey.

Closing the door softly behind Gendry, she couldn’t take her eyes off of the dagger as she walked back to her bedroom window. She knew what this meant, Gendry took time off of his busy schedule making weapons for their war against The Others to tell Sansa that she could trust him. She looked up at the sound of Arya laughing while Podrick got up and dusted himself or at least tried to. She smiled a small smile and looked at the dagger again. Gendry was telling her that she could trust him and that Arya is in safe hands.

Ever since Gendry had gifted her with the dagger, she never went to bed without it placed under her pillow. Some say she is paranoid but Sansa believes it is better to be safe than sorry.


End file.
